


My Thoughts Will Echo Your Name

by jozka



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ballroom Dancing, Cinderella Elements, Dancing, Flowers, M/M, akaashi is a gardener, its v v gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jozka/pseuds/jozka
Summary: Keiji smiles at him, “I'm sure there are still plenty of people in there willing to take you up on it if you offer them a dance.”The prince seems to ponder it for a moment, letting out a soft hum before turning to Keiji and then turning him speechless with just two words.“Would you?”(or the gardener's son sneaks into a masquerade ball and dances with the prince all night long.)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 24
Kudos: 116
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

The palace ballroom is much bigger and much grander on the inside than Keiji could’ve ever imagined, even when it’s filled to the brim with people dressed in their finest gowns. He can’t count the amount of times he’s stood in the garden, looking up at the windows on the third floor and imagined what might be on the other side of them. 

It is a truly magical night, the sounds of chatter and laughter mingle with the sweet music of the orchestra and the sounds of feet shuffling across the dance floor. In the middle of it all, the prince spins yet another partner around, making her bring a hand up to her mouth to muffle her giggle. The prince smiles at her before taking a bow as the song comes to an end and another hopeful noble woman steps up to take the previous one's place.

Keiji watches it all from the sidelines, he was never one for big crowds, or dancing for that matter. His borrowed dress shirt itches a bit, the fine material feels strange and stiff against his skin and his coat is awfully heavy. The golden mask covering his eyes sits uncomfortably on the bridge of his nose and he finds himself reaching to the back of his head to make sure the knot is secure every other minute. He fiddles with the stem of a delicate little white rose he had plucked from one of the bushes in the garden. It’s pinned to his coat with a needle, it’s almost laughable that a rose and a needle are the only two items of his own that he’s currently wearing. Keiji really wonders how the nobles put up with dressing in these kinds of garments every day, and dancing in it on top of that. He supposes that it comes down to the money in the end. Most people would prefer being rich with uncomfortable clothes over being poor any day, and Keiji can’t say that he’s an exception.

“A drink, sir?” 

Keiji doesn’t register that the question is meant for him until a tray filled with wobbling champagne flutes is dangerously shoved right in front of his face. He takes one once they’ve settled a bit and thanks the server, a boy he vaguely recognizes from the times he’s been to the kitchens. 

There are actually a lot of familiar faces running around the ballroom. Some whose names Keiji knows, and some he doesn’t. Nonetheless, they’re people he sees almost every day around the castle, meaning they must see him too and if any of them recognizes him here, he’s a dead man.

There’s no uncertainty about it, if anyone were to find out that he, the gardener's son, borrowed some fine garments from his wealthy cousin he’s not even supposed to be in contact with and snuck into the prince's ball, they’d hang him.

Suddenly he’s struck by a wave of anxiety. He knew the risks of attending the masquerade ball, had calculated all of it beforehand for several days. He had come to the conclusion that the chances of anyone recognizing him with a mask on and gaudy clothes were slim to none. Still, his heart rate picks up and suddenly the big ballroom seems much smaller, the people much closer, and mask-clad eyes that previously seemed to be on the prince now seem to be seeing right through him. His hand reaches up to the little white rose. Being around flowers is a comfort, they’re calming and they do not judge him in any way. They’re his friends, his family. 

His thumb catches on one of the thorns, not enough to draw blood, but enough to sting and bring him out of his spiralling thoughts.

Keiji downs his glass of champagne in one go, not caring to actually taste it even though he has never had the chance to before. He follows a laughing couple out of the ballroom and onto the large balcony. The happy couple disappears down some stairs leading to the garden, the mild wind carrying their voices for a while even after they’re out of sight and Keiji is left alone. The cold spring air makes a shiver run through him as he stands there in his borrowed finery and looks out at the palace garden. He spots the pond he used to catch frogs by as a kid, the large cherry blossom trees that are due to bloom soon and the rose bushes from which he plucked the one currently decorating his coat. He is supposed to tend to them tomorrow morning, trim them into perfect oval bushes because that’s how the royal family wants them. Keiji prefers them in their natural state, asymmetric and wild. He’s never seen the garden from above before, but it’s certainly a sight to behold. It’s truly magnificent, lit up by lanterns so the guests who dare to brave the cold can stroll around. He spots the couple walking and for a moment he finds himself wishing his own life could be that simple, but he doubts that he’ll walk the gardens with anyone but his trusty pair of scissors for a while.

Keiji doesn’t know how long he just stands there and admires the garden, but after a bit he realizes he doesn’t feel anxious anymore. The chance of him getting recognized by any of the servers are slim to none, and even if they would, silence can often be bought for the right price. 

It's not as if the prince himself would ever recognize him.

Despite Keiji practically having grown up on the palace grounds, he has only spoken to the prince once.

It happened three summers ago, when the prince had a visitor from a far away kingdom. The visiting lord, Kuroo, if Keiji remembers correctly, had for some reason demanded fresh flowers to be delivered to his room every other day and Keiji had been assigned to the task. Kuroo had been out of his room on all delivery occasions except one, and the one time he had been present, he had also been accompanied by the prince. Keiji still vividly remembers opening the door and being met with wide, golden eyes looking at the vase of flowers in his hands with much more excitement than a vase of flowers deserve. The prince had offered to pick up the vase with the old wilting flowers in it so Keiji could place the new one on the table. Once it was securely placed on the table, Keiji held out his hands to receive the old vase and as the prince was handing it over, his fingers graced Keiji’s and the sudden touch must have startled him because the vase slipped from his grip, fell down and shattered on the ground. A loud, cackling, truly horrendous laughter erupted from lord Kuroo as the prince’s face reddened. Keiji stuttered out apologies while he hurriedly attempted to clean up the mess to the best of his abilities. When he had gathered the largest shards he fled the room in mortification and sent for maids to finish the job.

After that fateful day, Keiji has caught glimpses of the prince here and there on the castle grounds, and he finds himself replaying the incident every now and then just to torture himself, but they haven’t spoken or interacted at all since then.

“Oh it really is freezing out here, aren’t you cold?”

Until now, that is.

It takes a second for Keiji to realize that as he seems to be the only other one out on the balcony, the question is meant for him. It takes yet another second for him to realize that the man now standing beside him is none other than prince Koutarou.

His black mask is messily pushed up into his hair, partly concealing his golden crown from sight. Some of his silver strands are poking out from under the mask and some are plastered to his forehead with sweat. He’s wearing a white jacket emblazoned with golden details and gemstones and Keiji thinks just that one piece of clothing must be worth more than his whole family house. The prince is also wearing a big grin on his face, patiently awaiting Keiji’s answer to his question.

“Not really, I guess I'm used to the cold,” he answers, which is partially true since he never had the luxury of living in a warm castle but also a lie since the cold isn’t really something you ever get used to.

“Lucky you! I just stepped out for a breath of fresh air and I’m already shivering!” The statement is true, Keiji observes, despite his warm smile and carefree demeanor the prince is indeed shaking a bit.

“So all that dancing didn’t warm you up?” Keiji doesn’t know what possesses him to ask that, and an apology is already on the tip of his tongue when the prince lets out a very loud and startling laugh.

“You’d think so right? I swear I danced with half the kingdom and then some! But clearly that wasn’t enough.”

Prince Koutarou is loud, Keiji knows this from the previous times he’s heard him talk, but it’s different now that it’s directed right at him. The prince has the kind of voice that demands your attention, that makes you not just hear it, but want to really listen to it.

Keiji smiles at him, “I'm sure there are still plenty of people in there willing to take you up on it if you offer them a dance.”

The prince seems to ponder it for a moment, letting out a soft hum before turning to Keiji and then turning him speechless with just two words.

“Would you?”

Keiji considers it for a moment. On one hand, it would be incredibly rude to decline the offer, possibly even offensive. On the other, he has never taken a dance lesson in his life and if he were to attempt dancing with someone as skilled as the prince, his cover would definitely be blown. A young noble who doesn’t know how to dance? Surely that is unheard of.

He must have taken too long, because the prince speaks up again.

“If you don’t want to, it's completely fine! I don’t want to force you or anything, I know dancing isn’t for everyone!” 

Despite his reassuring words, the prince looks kind of dejected, and it’s such a contrast from his previous cheery self that Keiji finds himself speaking before his brain can catch up.

“I guess that I could spare one dance.”

The way prince Koutarou’s face lights up is brighter than any of the lanterns in the garden. He reaches over and gently takes one of the hands Keiji had placed on the balcony railing. “Well, come on then,” he says and leads him inside.

When the balcony doors open all eyes are immediately shifted upon the both of them as Koutarou leads Keiji to the middle of the dance floor. While trying to keep up with the prince’s quick pace, Keiji self consciously reaches to the back of his head with his free hand to make sure his mask is securely fastened. On the floor, the couples occupying the space parts for them without any prompting and once Koutarou deems them to be in the right space he turns around to face Keiji and places his free hand on his waist.

“Is this okay? You can still change your mind,” he asks, looking like he genuinely cares about Keiji’s comfort.

The hand on his waist is warm, it’s a comforting pressure that makes the dress shirt itch a little less, that makes him loosen up a little more. 

Keiji is not lying when he nods and places his own free hand on the prince’s shoulder. After getting that confirmation, Koutarou tightens his grip on Keiji’s waist just a little, adjusts their hands and starts leading him into a slow waltz. 

It’s a bit clumsy at first, Keiji stumbles over his own two feet and at one point he steps on Koutarou’s toes which he thinks will be a certain death sentence but the prince just laughs it off and spins him around. After a while of swaying and stepping and spinning, Keiji seems to get the hang of it all. The prince smiles at him, big and wide, and pulls him in closer to be able to whisper in his ear.

“You’re a natural.”

Keiji feels his cheeks heat up a bit, and he can’t blame it on the physical activity. When the prince pulls back again, he notices a gathering of eyes on him. Of course the prince and his dance partners have been observed all night long, but Keiji can’t help but feel targeted when the group starts whispering among themselves. A sudden spin gets him out of his head and Koutarou twirls him around until he gets dizzy and starts to laugh. The prince catches him when he starts to lose balance and holds him close until he catches his bearings again. As well as he can, at least. The sudden closeness is almost as dizzying as the spinning.

“So what brings you here tonight?” Koutarou asks, still holding him close even after Keiji has regained his balance.

“Curiosity,” Keiji answers, because that’s the closest to the truth he can get. 

“I see, so you haven’t been to many balls then?”

“I thought my dancing made that obvious.”

The prince laughs at that, louder than a comment like that would usually warrant. Keiji doesn’t consider himself to be a particularly funny person, but Koutarou grins at him like he’s never been more entertained in his life.

“If you have the time to spare me another dance, I’m sure you’ll catch up.”

He thinks it over for a moment. He really shouldn’t take any risks, he’s already stayed longer at the ball than what he first intended to, but he also finds himself really wanting to stay, and really wanting to keep dancing.

Maybe it’s the champagne, maybe it’s the free atmosphere or maybe it’s the way the prince’s thumb is gently running up and down his own, sending shivers through his hand, up his arm and down his whole body.

“I have all the time in the world.”

One dance turns into two, which turns into three and then Keiji loses count. Koutarou was right, he does catch up. He’s still nowhere near the prince's skill level, but following him feels right. The two of them glide around the dance floor like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like they’ve been doing it for ages instead of minutes, or hours, or however long it’s been.

Keiji never wants it to stop. 

The thought to check if his mask is loose doesn’t even cross his mind, his hands never reach to fidget with the rose and for once in his life, all his worries seem to seep away into nothingness.

When yet another song comes to its end, Keiji feels a finger tapping gently but decidedly on his shoulder. He turns around and is met with the sight of a tall man with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but there are quite a lot of guests here who wish to dance with our dear prince and I'm afraid it’s his duty to indulge them,” the man says. It’s hard to tell since he’s wearing a mask, but he actually looks to be a little apologetic.

“Oh, my apologies,” Keiji says, first to the unknown man, who for some reason looks quite familiar now that he sees him up close. Even with a mask on there’s something that makes him think he’s seen him before. Then he apologizes to the prince, who is still holding onto his hand and waist. “I'm sorry, your highness, I didn’t realize how much of your time I took up. I shall take my leave now.”

“Please don’t apologize, you didn’t take up any time that I didn’t willingly give to you, and I’d happily dance with you all night if someone hadn’t interrupted,” he glares pointly at the man still standing behind Keiji like a shadow.

Keiji feels his whole face heat up, how could it not when the prince had said he’d dance with him all night if he could. The hand on his waist is still there, as firm and warm and comforting as ever and Keiji feels like he might burst if the prince doesn’t let go soon.

“Thank you for teaching me how to dance,” Keiji let’s go of Koutarou’s hand, hoping he will take the hint. 

He does, slowly letting go and letting his arms fall to his sides. With a quick bow, Keiji turns around to escape from the dance floor, already thinking of ways to sneak out of the palace unseen. He hardly even gets to take two steps before a hand is lightly gripping his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait!” the prince yells to be heard over the music and chattering crowd, “I didn’t get your name.”

“I-“ 

Keiji doesn’t know what to say, he didn’t come up with an alibi. He hadn’t been planning to talk to anyone, let alone dance with them or give out a name. He considers it for a second, and really, the chance of the prince knowing one of the gardeners' names is small, and if he did, he’d know their family name, not his given name. 

“Keiji,” he says before he can regret it.

“Keiji,” prince Koutarou repeats as Keiji slips out of his grip and out through the crowd, pushing the big doors to the ballroom open and disappearing down the corridor and into the night.

He doesn’t notice that he leaves the little white rose behind, ripped right through at the stem from the needle. It falls to the ground from his hasty departure, getting picked up by warm hands that twirl it around like they did it’s owner just moments before. 

The prince puts the flower in his pocket, patting it every other minute for the rest of the night to make sure it’s safely tucked away while he dances with nobles whose names he forget the second he hears them.

Only one name stays on his mind for the rest of the night, echoing louder than anything he’s ever heard before.


	2. Chaper Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo guess we're continuing this bad boy

Watching flowers in full bloom fall to the ground always feels like a waste to Keiji. One snip of his scissors and their life is cut short, all because they don’t fit into the desired shape of the bushes in the garden. Sometimes he saves a few of them, puts them into his pocket and prays that they will hold out for long enough that he can put them in water and give them a few more days to bloom.

Yesterday he had brought one of those saved flowers into the castle and left without it. He doesn’t know when it fell off, if it was during the dance or when he fled, all he knows is that it wasn’t there when he went to remove it from his borrowed coat.

He supposes it doesn’t matter as the rose holds no sentimental value for him. 

When he first noticed that it was gone, the thought that he might have left a trace crossed his mind. He dismissed it after only a second, surely there’s no way that a simple dropped rose could tattle about his presence at the ball, even though he is the palace gardener’s son and apprentice.

He makes a few more cuts, makes sure the bush is nice and even before wiping his brow, gathering his tools and moving on to the next.

The palace garden has a wide assortment of flowers, all to make sure it’s in constant bloom no matter the season. Roses are very grateful in that regard, since there’s a lot of different kinds and varieties that all bloom at different times of the year. Keiji has never met her personally, but it’s a known fact that the queen is very fond of roses in particular.

He wonders if that’s a trait she passed down to her son. 

It’s a chilly spring day, the grass was soaked in dew when he left home in the morning and even though midday must have passed by now and the sun sits high in the sky, his breath still comes out foggy. His work warms up his body, but there’s a numbness slowly building up in his fingers that makes it hard to cut just as precisely as he wants to.

Just when he makes another well-calculated snip, he hears someone behind him loudly clear their throat.

“I’ve never seen white roses bloom this early, at least not back home. Is this variety native to here?”

Keiji turns around to see who addressed him, quickly masking his shock once he recognizes the man as the same one that interrupted his dance with the prince the previous night.

The man is not wearing a mask today, but with his height and very distinct hairstyle it’s obvious that it’s him. 

“I believe it’s common here and in the neighbouring kingdoms, but I must admit I’m not that knowledgeable.”

“Aren’t you a gardener?” the man asks with a teasing smile on his face.

“I know how to care for the flowers, not their whole history.” As soon as the words leave Keiji’s mouth he regrets them, this man is a noble, he shouldn’t be talking to him so bluntly. The wrong words at the wrong time could be a death sentence. 

Luckily for him the man just laughs.

“That’s fair,” he shrugs before walking closer to the bush to inspect the flowers. Keiji stumbles over his own feet to quickly leave room for him.

His presence is intimidating, he seems to be very self-assured, like most nobles are. 

“I recognize you,” he says while bringing one of the roses to his nose to smell its sweet scent.

Keiji’s heart skips a beat. Of course he does, to think that a mere golden mask would be enough of a disguise was foolish. After all, if Keiji recognized him without his it’s only natural it would be the same the other way around. 

He wonders if he will get the opportunity to say goodbye to his father before they execute him.

“You delivered the flowers to my room the last time I visited.”

Oh.

It all clicks at once. 

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I request that you do that again? I’ll be staying for three more weeks, some of these roses would make my temporary room more homey,” Lord Kuroo says, an air of authority in his voice that makes it clear that it isn’t really a question but a demand.

“It’s no trouble at all, I’ll get right to it once I finish trimming these bushes,” Keiji says with a growing clump in his throat.

“I’ll let you get to it then,” Kuroo says before walking away, leaving the air with a tinge of unease even in his absence.

—

The palace is quiet in the afternoon, a stark contrast to the previous night. It is strange to think that not even twenty-four hours earlier, Keiji had been running down the very hallway he’s currently walking. He’s accompanied by a member of lord Kuroo’s entourage, who had travelled with him all the way from the Nekoma Isles. They haven’t spoken a word to each other since the man came to fetch him, but Keiji prefers it that way. Striking up conversations with strangers isn’t something he finds himself particularly good at, never mind strangers who could report anything that left his mouth to a lord who could get him executed.

He finds himself thinking of getting executed a lot lately, something that would be terribly inconvenient for both his father and himself, since he rather enjoys being alive.

Despite Kuroo’s obvious interest in the white roses, Keiji had chosen to bring him tulips instead. It seemed less personal, and the colorful tulips would certainly brighten up his room more than the roses would. 

They take a turn, walk up some stairs then another hallway before they come to a halt.

“We’re here,” his escort says when they’re standing in front of a big wooden door with intricate patterns carved into it. 

He knocks on it and the lord opens.

“Come in, come in, you’re just in time,” he says, ushering them into his quarters before walking over to a velvet settee.

The room is bigger than Keiji’s family home and immaculately decorated, but there’s no personality to it. Another one of his servants is preparing tea in the corner and the air is thick with the spicy scent of it. Keiji thinks that it must be something brought from overseas because he’s never smelled anything like it before.

The last time he delivered flowers he was let in by a guard who watched him go in, place the vase and then leave, except for that one disastrous incident he’d rather not think about. After their brief encounter in the garden though, it’s no surprise that Kuroo is there in person to let him in this time. He’s got that same mischievous grin on his face, Keiji is starting to suspect it’s a permanent feature of his.

There is a table in the middle of the room on which he places the vase and after making sure it’s stable, he backs away, fully prepared to take his leave.

“Would you care to stay for a cup of tea? It would be a shame if you walked up all of those stairs only to leave immediately after.” 

The question puts him off guard. His first thought is that it isn’t directed towards him, but to the man who escorted him to Kuroo’s room, but the lord is looking at him expectationally. Again, there’s really no room for refusal, when nobility asks something of you, you simply agree, so that is what Keiji reluctantly does. 

Surely nothing good will come out of staying and having tea with the foreign lord who just so happens to be the crown prince’s best friend.

His fears are proven to be true when said prince suddenly bursts through the door, visibly upset, and flings himself on the bed, bouncing up and down and letting out a loud whine. 

“It’s futile!” he exclaims, “I swear I read through the guest list at least five times and he’s nowhere to be found! I even had the servants ask around among the remaining guests but none of them found anything either!”

“Have you considered that the name he gave you might be an alias?” Kuroo stirs his tea, not looking phased at all at the sudden intrusion.

“But why would he do that? I thought he was enjoying our dancing as much as I was!”

“I’m sure he did,” Kuroo takes a cautious sip of his tea to not burn himself, and looks right at Keiji over the brim of his cup, “but I can think of a number of reasons as to why he would like to remain anonymous.”

If there was any doubt left that Kuroo doesn’t know exactly who Keiji is, it leaps out the window the second their eyes meet. 

Keiji tries to swallow his panic, the prince doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, and he’d prefer it if he never did. Maybe if he wished hard enough, the floor would collapse and they would all fall to their deaths.

Of course, luck hasn’t been on his side lately and the palace remains as steady as it has been for the last hundred years. 

“I never actually gave you a cup, how rude of me,” Kuroo says and gestures for his servant to pour one up for him. “And take a seat, there is plenty of room.”

There isn’t really, with the prince spread out on the bed, Kuroo on the settee, his escort on a chair by the table and the servant in the corner. He feels a bit like a trapped animal, wherever he looks, eyes are upon him, wondering where he will dare to sit. 

Before he gets the chance to overthink it any further, the prince speaks up from where he’s now sat up in the bed. 

“Tetsurou, why didn’t you tell me you had company over! Now I feel like I’m intruding!” 

Keiji finds a sudden interest in the wooden floor. Could it be made from mahogany? Maybe cypress?

“I told you to come by for afternoon tea, you’re not intruding in the slightest.”

Now that Koutarou is sitting up at the end of the bed, the server pours a cup for him and hands it over with a bow which Keiji is shocked to see the prince return accompanied by words of gratitude.

“Perhaps I should introduce you all to each other,” Kuroo says, doing a sweeping motion with his hand around the room. “Koutarou, you’ve met Kenma,” he says while motioning towards the man that escorted Keiji to the room. “This is Sou, my most competent servant,” he motions to the young man still holding the teapot, ready to refill empty cups at any time. 

“And this is, well, I'm afraid to say I actually don’t know your name, would you care to enlighten me?” 

There’s a glint in Kuroo’s eyes that Keiji strongly dislikes. 

“Akaashi,” he says, leaving out his first name for obvious reasons.

“Akaashi,” Kuroo repeats, “that is a pretty name.

“I think you’re making him uncomfortable,” prince Koutarou points out from the bed.

“Really?” Kuroo questions, “Akaashi, am I making you uncomfortable?”

Yes, Keiji wants to say, but refrains from doing so.

“No, my lord,” he says instead, causing Kuroo to grin at him and Koutarou to give him a cautious smile, like he’s doubting the truth of that statement.

“See, I’m not making him uncomfortable! Now, Akaashi, please take a seat.” Kuroo pats the spot next to him on the settee and Keiji reluctantly sits down beside him. They’re not quite touching, but there’s not a lot of room between them. 

The lord and the prince strike up a conversation that leaves no room for anyone else to participate. Kenma, who sits curled up on his chair, has picked up a book and pays no mind to anyone else in the room. Sou prepares a new pot of tea and asks Keiji if he would like a refill, which he accepts if only to have something to do. The prince’s loud laugh echoes through the room at something Kuroo says and the sound takes Keiji back to the ballroom. It’s not the kind of laugh one would consider a beautiful sound, it’s not melodic or in any way pleasant to the ears. Yet, it might be one of Keiji’s favorite sounds, up there with birds chirping in the morning or the sounds of waves hitting the cliffs down by the beach. It’s addictive, you hear it once and you want to hear it again, it makes you want to laugh as well, it makes you smile. 

Keiji feels his lips being pulled upwards and tries to force them back into a neutral line, tries not to ponder over why a laugh is affecting him so much. Now is not the time to get caught up in his thoughts.

“...That’s where I met Akaashi actually, he’s a gardener.” When Keiji hears his name come out of Kuroo’s mouth he immediately snaps out of his thoughts to try to catch up with the conversation.

“Really? So you must be an expert at roses then! Can you tell me if there’s any symbolism behind it? The white rose?” Koutarou looks hopeful, eyes wide and with a stance that makes him look ready to fly off the bed at any moment. 

Keiji feels terrible about having to crush all his hope. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not very knowledgeable about flower symbolism. I believe that the white rose is more innocent than its counterparts, but I could be wrong.”

As expected, the prince slumps back onto the bed in dejection, almost spilling his tea all over himself before Sou steps in and saves the cup at the last second.

“I’m sure you’ll find him, Kou. He can’t have gotten very far.” Kuroo shoots a very pointed glance Keiji’s way and a chill runs down his spine. The lord is very intimidating, and Keiji can’t for the life of him figure out his motive. Is he doing all of this to get Keiji to confess, or just to torture him? What would he gain if Keiji did confess? His friend’s disappointment in realising he spent an evening dancing with a commoner? The satisfaction of seeing Keiji get hanged?

No matter why he’s doing it, there’s no way it will end well for Keiji.

“I have some matters I’d like to discuss with the prince in private, you may all leave,” Kuroo says after a while. Keiji has to stop himself from running out of the room, taking his time to put down his cup, thanking Sou for the tea and bowing to Kenma who looks as relieved as Keiji feels to be able to leave. 

“If you could stop by in a couple of days with a fresh bouquet that would be greatly appreciated,” Kuroo says when Keiji turns to say his farewells to him, “if I’m not too busy maybe you could even stay for tea again.”

“I’d like that,” Keiji lies.

—

When Keiji does as he was asked and delivers flowers to lord Kuroo’s room a couple of days later, one of the guards let him in. The lord himself is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Kenma or Sou. He leaves the fresh flowers on the table, bright yellow daffodils, and picks up the tulips. They’re not completely wilted yet, some are just missing a few petals or slouching a bit. 

Instead of throwing them away, he makes fresh cuts on the stems, plucks away any browning or dry petals and decides to bring them to Yukie in the kitchen. There’s a special entrance to the kitchen right from the garden, as the kitchen staff uses part of the garden to grow fresh herbs. Keiji uses this entrance frequently, both to visit the few friends he’s made among the kitchen staff but also to sneak whatever food crumbs he can get his hands on. He’s in no way starving, but with both him and his father working all day, there’s no one with time over to prepare meals during the day, and he often ends up eating very late into the evening. 

He finds Yukie crouching among the herbs with an almost filled wicker basket beside her. Even from where he’s standing, the smell of basil is strong, but not bothersome. She looks focused on her task, not noticing his approach.

“What’s on the menu?” Keiji asks in lieu of greeting.

Yukie looks up in surprise, which quickly turns to a smile at the sight of her friend.

“I wouldn’t know,” she responds, “I’m not a cook.”

“You will be one day, once those old crooks retire.”

Yukie laughs. “Yeah, let’s hope so, I’m pretty sure the smell of basil is permanently stuck to my skin by now.”

She stands up and dusts off her apron. It doesn’t help in the slightest, the dirt has stained the fabric beyond salvation. Her skin is streaked with dirt as well, where her sleeves are pushed up and her hair is falling out of her headband in a way that would nicely frame her face had it not looked so messy. She looks every bit the servant that she is, and Keiji supposes he looks like that too. 

Yukie is the daughter of the former head chef and has been a constant presence in the castle for as long as Keiji can remember. They grew up together, sneaking away to play every chance that they could only to be scolded by their parents afterwards. The palace garden wasn’t a playground, no matter how much they treated it as such. Yukie’s mother passed away when she was eleven, and with her father stationed up north with the military, she got taken in by an old kitchen servant. Keiji still remembers how awful the uncertainty of that time had felt. Not only was he grieving the loss of a woman who had essentially become a second mother to him, but he didn’t know whether Yukie was going to move away, if he was going to lose his best friend too. 

He’s really glad he didn’t.

“Are those for me?” Yukie points at the tulips in his hands. “Finally realizing your love for me goes beyond friendship and asking me to elope?”

Keiji looks at her with fake disgust. “I think Suzumeda would actually stab me with a kitchen knife if I did that.”

Yukie laughs. “No, she wouldn’t sully the kitchen knives like that, she’d use your own gardening tools.”

“And wouldn’t that be a way to go,” Keiji mumbles, glancing up at the sky to avoid meeting Yukie’s eyes. “Better than hanging or beheading at least.” He’s only half-joking. 

Yukie picks up on it, because after twenty years of friendship she’s used to all of Keiji’s different expressions and tones. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks, looking more concerned the more time that Keiji is silent.

Had the situation not been one regarding life and death, Keiji would not hesitate at all to tell Yukie. But as it is, he cannot come up with a way to explain how he snuck into the royal ball, danced with the prince, is now sought after by the prince, got roped into being a lord's personal flower boy and that said lord knows of his little secret and can expose him at any given moment.

There really isn’t any way to sugarcoat it, once lord Kuroo decides to open his sneaky little mouth and tattle on him, he’s doomed. 

He sighs, he’s never kept a secret from Yukie before and he’s not going to start now.

“Is there anywhere near we can go that is a little more private? A pantry with thick walls or something?”

“I was joking about the eloping but you do realize how suggestive that sounds, right?” Yukie smirks at him and wiggles her eyebrows.

Keiji groans. “I’m serious, no one can overhear this.”

“It can’t be that bad, but sure, I know a place,” Yukie says, taking her basket full of basil and leading the way inside the palace.

—

“So what kind of flowers do you want at your funeral?” Yukie asks once Keiji has finished retelling the events of the last few days.

They’re standing face to face in a small pantry that was definitely not made for two adults to converse in. They’re close enough that Keiji can smell Yukie’s breath, which funnily enough smells like basil. Suzumeda really would kill him if she opened the door.

“Isn’t it your job as my friend to assure me that I’m overreacting and that everything is fine?”

“Well…” Yukie trails off, “I’m not going to lie and say you haven’t gotten yourself into a very tricky situation. I mean, really, Keiji? You snuck into the royal ball?”

Keiji puts his face into his hands. He wants to sink down to the floor and lie there for a while, maybe forever, but there is not enough space for any other position than standing upright. 

“You know, I overheard the other servant gossiping about a mysterious guest the other day, but I would never have guessed that it was you!”

Keiji just groans in response.

Yukie puts a hand on his shoulder in a way that is probably meant to be reassuring.“Look at it from the bright side!”

“What side would that be?” Keiji asks.

“Lord Kuroo hasn’t outed you yet and you’re still alive! Which means that you can help me carry vegetables up from the cellar! You get a distraction and I don’t have to live with sore arms tomorrow, it’s a win-win situation,” Yukie says with a big smile on her lips. 

“Are you using my crisis for your personal gain?” 

“Maybe, now come on, we can’t stand here all day!”

Keiji helps Yukie and the other kitchen servants carry ingredients from the cellar up to the kitchen. For a while, it serves its purpose, he forgets about his troubles for a while to focus on the ache in his legs from multiple trips up and down the stairs. When Yukie deems him done he leaves the castle for the day and makes his way home.

The Akaashi family lives in a small cottage located right where the palace garden gives way to the thick forest that stretches through the whole east side of the kingdom. It’s still within the palace walls, but hidden enough to not be an eyesore for the nobles walking the garden. 

In Keiji’s opinion, the cottage is a good home, lovely and quaint. Still, when he has the choice to be anywhere but there, he takes it. It hasn’t got anything to do with the house itself, but rather the people living in it.

Keiji’s mother came from a family with ties to nobility and a considerable amount of money. She chose to forgo the riches to pursue what she thought would be true love and happiness, marrying a simple gardener. Oh, how she must regret that now. She doesn’t speak about it, especially not now when her health is deteriorating as quickly as it is, but Keiji knows his mother stopped loving his father many years ago. Maybe it was because of how dedicated he is to his job, barely even staying home long enough to get a good night's sleep some days. Or maybe they simply were not meant to be.

The concept of true love is something so foreign and intangible that Keiji doubts its existence. Yukie, who met Suzumeda Kaori at age sixteen and was never the same, doesn’t, which is a small comfort sometimes. Because Keiji would very much like to believe in it all. Love at first sight, soulmates, the one. Someone who would pull him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear —foolish, maudlin, romantic nothings. 

It’s a ridiculous thought, but sometimes he can’t help but indulge.


End file.
